


the love club

by yerims



Category: GOT7
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Kim Yugyeom-Centric, Relationship Study, gyeom going from 'wah jb hyung heart eyes' to being his jus2 bud. u kno what im sayin, leader-maknae dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-29 12:10:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20081989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yerims/pseuds/yerims
Summary: And it's these little things—it makes Yugyeom wonder about Jaebum differently. The Jaebum who will move out, get married, have his own family—Yugyeom will know him by heart. That Jaebum will belong to a new house, a spouse, his children. He will not be his anymore, but somehow, he will always be.or yugbum from predebut to jus2





	the love club

**Author's Note:**

> would be best understood if u have some background knowledge of got7 (jjp's first debut, the prank that made gyeom cry, trouble in la, etc) but even if u dont i think it should make sense :')
> 
> these 2 truly. they mean the world to me i cannot explain how hard it was to write this without getting all ;___;
> 
> pls be gentle with her. a piece of my heart is in this one!! mwah

**Jaebum** is hard to talk to.

It’s not that Yugyeom is afraid, per se. For all the talk about the angled jaw and sharp remarks, Jaebum is kind. He doesn’t pick on the younger trainees, doesn’t throw his weight around just for the fun of it. He’s 17, revered, and Yugyeom notices each time he switches an earring out for another. There’s a routine to it—and it is strangely comforting to watch even from afar.

Jaebum also does not go out of his way to mix with the newer ones like Yugyeom himself. The four year age gap amplifies in the practice rooms, so he sticks to the older ones, like Jinyoung and Youngjae and Hyunwoo. They are professional and cool and never gracelessly rowdy like himself. Yugyeom wants to dance with them, sometimes. But he is too shy to ask.

Jaebum is not mean, by any means. He is just… untouchable. Every extra spin he adds in the choreography that concludes their routine more brilliantly, every adlib he improvises to show off his feathery light vocals—it makes Yugyeom watch him with a childlike admiration. Some days, Jaebum catches his eye in the mirror. He’ll turn around and give Yugyeom a smile—warm, encouraging. From the back of the practice room, Yugyeom beams back.

**Yugyeom** hears about Jaebum and Jinyoung’s debut from Bambam.

Bambam heard it from Jackson, who heard it from Mark, who heard it from someone Yugyeom doesn’t remember. Most of him is happy for them—because they’d been working for this for longer than he understands. Jaebum and Jinyoung had passed every test together, so this was well-deserved, for sure. At night, Yugyeom peers at the peeling paint on the ceiling and wonders if they feel any different. A smaller part of him wonders if they’d still be his friends as idols. It feels like prodding at an open wound—so he clamps his eyes shut and wills himself to sleep.

From the bunk underneath his, Bambam dreams of going home.

**The **first time they visit, they glow. Yugyeom will always remember: Jaebum walks in first with his newly bleached hair, baggy jeans, a distinct hole at the thigh. Jinyoung walks in a few steps later, wearing more eyeliner than Yugyeom is used to, his platform sneakers giving him an extra two-inch boost. It must be that, Yugyeom thinks, that makes them look so big. He tells himself they’re still them—the same Jaebum who ruffles his hair in the hallway, the same Jinyoung who reminds him to finish his homework. But their smiles—god, it makes Yugyeom’s heart squeeze, because they were so _happy, _the taste of a dream caught lingering in the same old crumbly building where teenagers sold their lives.

There is a dinner—but Yugyeom skips out. He watches the remaining older trainees take their deserved places next to the two stars, then the younger ones loitering behind, uncertain if they were invited, but choosing to invite themselves anyway. After all, it is a celebration. Yugyeom longs to join in the parade, but a part of him sulks over how he now has to share his favourite people with the whole world.

So he leaves a message, a dozen of stickers, and the replies that come a week later unread.

**The **guilt sweeps over him in waves when they return the next time—indefinitely. There is not much talk about it, which frustrates Yugyeom. He bugs Bambam, then Jackson, then Mark. He wants to know _why—_why they failed, why they’ve come back. There is no explanation that he is ready to accept, which makes conversations even harder.

“I don’t know, Yugyeom,” Mark says for the third time. He twirls the pencil in his fingers, eyes never leaving the Korean textbook he’s working on. “The company just said... so. That’s all I know.”

“But how is that _fair_?!” Yugyeom shoots back, eyes wide with indignance. He has one leg propped up on the stool, and he lies his head against his knee which he hugs close to him, a defence against the injustice. Or denial, perhaps. He pouts and glares at the floor. Mark sighs.

Rolling the pencil into the crack of the binder, he shuts the book. “It’s not, Yugyeom, but… it happens.”

Yugyeom doesn’t want to accept it. He’d been missing Jaebum and Jinyoung quite often—but he’d rather they be out there living a success story than any of this. He is angry that they were cheated of; upset that their happily-ever-after got cut starkly short. More than that, he hates how this affects him the way it does, even if he does not know why.

Mark seems to know, so he pinches Yugyeom’s cheek. It was always in jest, to tease, but tonight it is for comfort.

“I know,” he softly says, eyes sad. Yugyeom doesn’t ask what he is referring to—he thinks he knows, too. So he lets the pout melt and watches Mark go through the rest of the chapter in silence for the next hour, quietly praying for this, at least, not to be as abruptly taken away as well.

**Jaebum **offers to pair up with Yugyeom for the next monthly trainee evaluation—and Yugyeom accepts. He is hesitant because he can name about thirty-three reasons why Jaebum should be doing this with Jinyoung. He doesn’t know if they had gotten into a fight or if they aren’t allowed to do it together anymore. Then he remembers the cruelty it’ll bring to have them redoing _trainee _evaluations as the duo that debuted on Music Bank, and he doesn’t ask any more questions.

Jaebum is still somewhat like the old Jaebum—yet somewhat different. Yugyeom hopes Jaebum cannot tell that he is sorting out every characteristic he remembers from before and presently observes. They sprout like uncontrolled tree roots—entangling and detangling till he can barely form a coherent picture of him anymore. The kindness is still there, though the bluntness seemed to have taken an edge. Yugyeom searches all day long for the boyish hopefulness there used to be. He doesn’t find it.

When Jaebum calls him to revise another count of eight again, Yugyeom tries to tell himself it is only the Jaebum standing in front of him that matters.

**Jaebum** never addresses the pull-out directly, but after they impressively make it to the final round of evaluations, he tells Yugyeom, “It seems good but you never know. That’s the thing here, you never know. So don’t get complacent—or worse, hopeful.”

Jinyoung had then given him a disapproving frown from where he sat on the bed across. He pumps some moisturiser onto his palm, gives it a diligent rub, then smears it across his face. He holds the bottle up and signals to Yugyeom to catch before tossing it over.

“Thanks, hyung,” Yugyeom mutters. It is unclear who he is talking to.

“You know,” Jinyoung says quietly, “It’s okay to be hopeful.”

“Sure—” Jaebum scoffs.

“No, listen,” Jinyoung chides, and Jaebum shuts up. “It’s… okay. Being hopeful is okay—it’s all we can do here. The adults are fucking crazy. We try to show them we are enough. That’s all there is to it. Being hopeful is the only way you won’t give up. It’s all we do.”

The words are broken, and it makes Yugyeom hurt. Yet, they stick like the cream against his skin. Jaebum stays silent—Yugyeom cannot see him anymore. Jinyoung fluffs up his pillow then lies down, getting ready to sleep. Yugyeom returns the bottle to the bag beside him then switches off the light.

As he climbs back to his bunk, he catches both of them lying wide-eyed, living a shared regret.

**Youngjae’s** voice is very nice. That’s pretty much all the impression Yugyeom forms at first meeting—because he’d seen enough people come and go to know those don’t matter. Youngjae sings loudly, vocal runs reminding him of the thick caramel milkshake from the cafe across the street. Bambam told him that’s all they were looking for now: a golden vocalist.

Yugyeom is glad they’ve found it.

**The** prank is harmless. The prank is harmless. The prank is—

Yugyeom is hurt. He is hurt because it was mean; he is hurt that it was for the new reality show they were so excited for. He is hurt this is how the fans will see him: Fearful, weak, crying. He is hurt that he has no control over that, too. But the prank is harmless. Maybe he’d hurt himself.

Jaebum had crept into his room that night. After the cameras stopped rolling, Yugyeom had about thirteen minutes in total to calm down. Jaebum hugged him tight, brought him water, pulled his head into his chest as the leftover tears trailed down his face. He was so frightened, but then he was only left with relief and _shame. _Then their dance instructor gave him a pat on his back and they had to resume with warm-ups. That day, Yugyeom danced like he had something to prove.

Jaebum is underdressed when he climbs into Yugyeom’s bed uninvited that night. Bambam was in the shower which left them two alone. Yugyeom wishes Jaebum had picked ten minutes later—but he also thinks it was intentional. Without a best friend to shy behind, Yugyeom has to confront the discomfort this conversation will bring.

“Are you okay?”

Yugyeom doesn’t know what to say. He feels very hurt by it all—but he’s not ready to admit it yet.

“Yes,” he settles for. He adds in an awkward smile for good measure.

“We didn’t take it too far, right?” Jaebum asks, pondering. “We would never—we could never be mad at you, Yugyeom ah.”

“Okay,” Yugyeom just nods. “It was fine. The fans will like it.”

He wonders if he sounds hostile. “I was just… startled, is all,” he reasons, more to himself now. “I thought something would happen to us. It’s stupid.”

Jaebum chuckles dryly then wraps him in a headlock. “We’re going to be fine,” he says. “I’ll make sure of it.” The words slip off his tongue easily and confident—and Yugyeom trusts him just like that. He struggles for a bit in the strong grip, but it’s all for show.

When Jaebum leans in a bit to place a gentle kiss against Yugyeom’s temple, he whispers, “I’m sorry.” It makes Yugyeom’s gaze drop to his lap in embarrassment. So much for the day’s pretending. Somehow, Jaebum always seems to know.

The nod that follows doesn’t feel forgiving; Yugyeom cannot master up such strength in the day’s chaos. He just lets Jaebum lie beside him. It is the best they can do.

**There** is a lot to miss out on, living like idols. The glitz and glamour of red carpets compensate heftily but Yugyeom doesn’t know if it is enough. If anyone were to snap “maknae yah!” accompanied by the sharp tug of his ear one more time, he thinks he might just floor it.

It’s not like he wants to act out. It’s not like he wants to be difficult. There are a lot of things he wants—to meet with his old friends, to binge on the dramas he’d missed, to get so wasted he can’t remember his name, but the answer always comes cold and firm.

“No,” Jaebum sighs, finger kneading into the ‘off’ button on the remote. “We have a radio interview tomorrow. You need to be up at 6.” Yugyeom glares at him, then back at the black screen where he can vaguely make out his reflection, slouched over the arm of the couch, taking after its shape more than his own.

The beer is cleared. Jaebum nags when he disposes of the bottles. Yugyeom grumpily does the dishes while he’s at it. The seconds tick by impatiently as if hastening them to sleep.

“You should know better,” Jaebum says, voice a special brew of disappointment Yugyeom thinks is only ever used on him. “You’re on a diet, Yugyeom ah.”

Yugyeom wants to argue. One day of fried chicken can’t hurt. But he knows Jaebum’s disappointment stems more from his lack of discipline than the calorie count.

Still, he doesn’t apologise. He sulks and returns to his room, where Bambam lies stomach-down, eyes glued to the screen of his phone. Bambam barely acknowledges him. He’d sensed his bad mood from hours ago.

“It’s like you’re asking to be scolded,” he says a few minutes later. Yugyeom huffs and turns in his bed to face the other way. Bambam isn’t wrong. Yugyeom could’ve had fried chicken out, or in the car, or in his room. He could’ve been in his bed, lights out, watching the drama on his phone under his blanket. He could have done everything to avoid getting caught. Then he would have everything he wants. Sort of.

“You’re such a child,” Bambam laughs, though his words are not cruel. Yugyeom pulls the blanket up to his nose. It’s a sign for Bambam to shut up, which is exactly why he doesn’t.

“Aw, c’ mon, Gyeom,” he giggles, restrategising. “Noraebang together after promos end?” he raises his brows and it feels like a challenge. “Without the lousy hyungs. Just us. We can do whatever the hell we want.”

Yugyeom peers at him quietly, then nods. He feels so, _so _stupid, wanting what normal people have. He ought to be more grateful. Yet he yearns to be allowed to be dumb and careless. He wants to make the mistakes his high school friends document all over their SNS accounts. He wants to skip school to run through the street markets, indulging in fried finger foods, ignoring his mom’s calls. He wants—

“...And we’ll have all the fried chicken they have. And soju, and sing all of Jaebum’s parts out of tune, because we can. And—”

Yugyeom laughs. Bambam is determined, and he is relieved, for now.

**Disagreements** are not uncommon, but they usually know how to sort it out. Some days they are easier, when the power shifts obviously uneven, like hyungs vs maknaes. Others, though, see more complication, when the older members themselves are split. By observation, Yugyeom can draw out a rough hierarchy of the members, and the weight they have in decisions. Jaebum first, then Mark and Jinyoung loosely tying, a draw between seniority and experience. Jackson is next, depending on how loud he cranks up his voice that day. Youngjae gets a small portion more than Bambam and Yugyeom for his sensibility. Bambam is not taken seriously usually. Yugyeom? Maybe if he cries again

It’s fine, mostly, Yugyeom gets it. They’re young. They’re naive—Jaebum repeats it every other day. They’ve been sheltered, big choices never theirs to own, big mistakes never theirs to repent. Yugyeom suggests changing some of his parts in the new song. Because he is a loyal friend, he recommends giving Bambam more lines. Because he has a right to an opinion, he tells Jaebum the logo for the new show is ugly. Because he can, he tries.

But that is about it. Jaebum promises to bring up his complaints during the exclusive meetings that leave him stressed and impatient for days after—but Yugyeom sees him typing it at the bottom of the list. He’s not angry, of course. He just wishes he could bear some of anything that Jaebum takes on himself. He wishes he could be there for Jaebum like Jaebum is for him.

He is not blind every time Jaebum knocks on Jinyoung’s door or Mark’s or even Youngjae’s because the managers were unreasonable and working him to the verge of tears. He makes sure to leave his door open, but Jaebum never comes.

**Youngjae** insists that Yugyeom has made Jaebum mad, and Youngjae is rarely wrong. Yugyeom doesn’t want to care much—most days it is easier to play the role of the rebellious brat until he can convince himself that it is truly him. The fans now notice him more. But the nagging worry bites him sharply and refuses to let go.

Halfway through the vlive, Yugyeom makes another reckless tease. Jaebum bites down on his tongue and forces a laugh. From beside him, Bambam exaggeratedly holds him back from lunging at the giggling offender. Jaebum remarks, “Yugyeom really… Yugyeom really did something bad today.” Yugyeom laughs even harder.

It is only when they are just done filming when Jaebum acts. Yugyeom had seen it coming, kind of. So it was like watching a movie play out after reading the bestseller it was based on—then getting startled at the ending all over again.

“I don’t know,” Jaebum starts, voice low but drilling, “what has gotten into you lately.” His movements are methodical, removing the leather jacket and handing it over to their staff. They pass him a different one which is his own that he wore here. Yugyeom thinks they look identical.

Yugyeom also thinks he can be stubborn. So while he withers under Jinyoung’s and Mark’s gazes, he doesn’t let up.

“There are lines _not _to cross, be it filming or not, Yugyeom,” Jaebum continues as he flips the jacket over and pulls it onto his shoulders. Under the calm anger in his tone, Yugyeom makes out the disappointment, _again_. He clenches his fist tight, imagining himself keeping a firm hold on his indignance, frustration, everything, before it explodes in his face.

“Yugyeom ah,” Jackson butts in from the corner of the room, and Yugyeom hates his dutiful righteousness for a single split-second. “You should apologise to hyung.”

Yugyeom wants Bambam to come to his defence. He wants someone to egg out a fight; divide them into two sides. He wants more shouting, more chaos, more anger. He wants to know he’s not the only one who’d been feeling like the home he made was tearing at the seams. He wants—

“Sorry,” he says. He cannot even tell if he is sincere anymore. All he knows is that he is so, very miserable. He wants Jaebum’s forgiveness, and apology, and brightness that was never weighed down by real-time chart numbers and sales expectations. He wants the Jaebum from before—the one who reminded him he loved him very much. Yugyeom is greedy. He wants and wants.

Jaebum looks at him for a hard moment. Something in his expression shifts—he almost says something more, but he doesn’t. Yugyeom doesn’t break the stare. If he is disappointed, he doesn’t make it known, either.

“Let’s get to the van quickly,” Jaebum just says. Jinyoung picks up on the regret in his voice, and Yugyeom thinks he is just imagining it. They shuffle out of the studio in tense silence. Youngjae hooks his arm around Yugyeom’s, and they don’t comment when they notice Yugyeom sneaking the jacket Jaebum took off into his arms.

**California** is everything Yugyeom dreamt it to be. The pavements are concrete and warm. The sea calls out to him. Mark stays beside him like before. For the distance, it feels familiar.

There was a party—and a lot of beer. Mark’s friends are loud and funny and they sling their arms around Yugyeom’s shoulder before he even remembers their names. Then something happens or two—and they are back in the hotel room, mood soured.

In Jackson’s room, Bambam curls up at the foot of the bed, unnaturally quiet. In Jaebum’s room, Yugyeom sits on the floor, listening for the remnants of the conversation Jaebum is having right outside drift through the closed door and back to him. Jaebum didn’t want Yugyeom to take the call. Yugyeom sits and waits.

The buzz in his mind from the alcohol had settled. He wishes it hasn’t—it was more fun back then. Drinking alone, by the pool, smiling toothily at everyone who stopped to talk. They were so friendly. Where were his hyungs?

“I know…” he can hear Jaebum mutter, “I’ll let them know.”

Silence. Pacing. Yugyeom wants to tear the door down and hold Jaebum still.

“I’m sorry,” he hears a few moments later. Yugyeom picks at the threads of the carpet. If Jaebum were here, he’d tell him to stop. He’d tell him to get off the floor, to wash his hands, to clean up. Slowly, Yugyeom works up a small pile of shreds. He imagines he is pulling his hair—and tugs at more strands harder.

The latch of the door clicks. It opens softly—Jaebum comes in.

Yugyeom stares at him.

“I’m sorry,” he says. It comes out a whisper. Weak, Yugyeom thinks, burdensome. He didn’t mean to but he had caused so much trouble. His memories were blurred. He can’t remember his mistakes. But he feels sorry.

“Yugyeom ah,” Jaebum sighs. He looks tired—bags under his eyes, hair unwashed after the pool dip, still matted and tainted with the regretful smell of chlorine. They were having too much fun. He was careless.

“Just… go rest up, okay?”

There was no rebuke. Jaebum didn’t look mad, or disappointed. Just… sad. Yugyeom cannot figure it out. He wants Jaebum to yell at him, then again, for Bambam. He wants to be hurt, then be told he deserves it, because he knows Jaebum doesn’t. He knows Jaebum doesn’t deserve the sleepless nights he will get, and the painful urge to look over his shoulder for them from now. Jaebum is 22. He deserves to be free from piggybacking ones like him.

Yugyeom doesn’t know what to do. He could apologise to his other members, check on Bambam, read the comments on every copy of the video that surfaced on the Internet. He was tipsy and flushed. He was shirtless. They’re calling him ugly and irresponsible. Yugyeom used to think he was only one of the above.

“But I’m sorry,” he says again. He knows he is being selfish. His apology need not mean anything to Jaebum.

“I know,” Jaebum exhales shakily. His eyes meet Yugyeom’s—and he gestures for him to come closer. Gently, he presses his thumb right at Yugyeom’s cheek, where the baby fat had once been most prominent. Where Jaebum loved to squeeze between his fingers and laugh while Yugyeom whined and reddened. “It’s okay, Yugyeom ah,” he assures. “Hyung doesn’t blame you.”

If it were any day before this, Yugyeom wouldn’t have believed him.

But today, Jaebum looks at him with such tenderness, he cannot help but take his word. So when he climbs into Jaebum’s bed that night, he holds him extra close, because he is the only reminder left that he is worthy of forgiveness.

**Things** don’t change much for a while.

Yugyeom reminds himself to be better. He stays out of trouble. He has long recognised where the line is—but rather than tottering along it like he usually does, he stays away. Bambam bounces back faster. It makes Yugyeom slightly envious, but more so, he adores his best friend.

They’re both barred from going out after eight. Jaebum makes it better by bringing them takeouts whenever he can. When he passes by the cafe by their old company building, he remembers to get Yugyeom the chocolate shake he best likes.

Just like that, he doesn’t feel like a black mark anymore.

**Guangzhou** is busier; the air is stuffy with strings of neon lights outlining skyscrapers. Their schedules do not let up. Yugyeom tries their food—it is different from home, but cooked with enough saltiness to strike a memory or two. Yugyeom misses his mom.

Every hour is filled. Touchdown, transport, rehearse. He ignores the first cough, then the second, then the third. He blames the dust for the drippy nose. It is not until he feels the familiar dryness at the back of his throat—the kind that makes eating painful—that he realises he might be unwell.

It is inconvenient.

He will not skip out on the concert. Jaebum sits him down at the edge of the stage during their last rehearsal and watches him solemnly as he dangles his long legs.

“Stay here,” he instructs softly. “Soundcheck, that’s all you’ll do.”

Yugyeom shrugs and cocoons himself deeper into his sweater. Jaebum’s sweater, actually. He stole it from the bottom of his luggage when he was lounging in his room earlier. If Jaebum had noticed, he didn’t try to stop him.

Jaebum frowns at the boy’s cooperation. Yugyeom is usually harder to hold still. The last time he had an arm in a cast, he was still bouncing to every muffled beat playing behind any closed door. Today, he’s oddly docile. Jaebum tells himself not to relish in that, but it is hard. From the corner of his eye, he spots Youngjae sneaking up to the maknae to steal extra warmth and cuddles in between songs. As usual, an opportunist.

Later after the concert, Jaebum will wipe the sweat off the boy’s face, lips thinned in concern. He will manhandle Yugyeom into the van, strap the seatbelt over him, and press a fever patch over his forehead. He will gently shake Yugyeom awake when they reach the hotel and hold his hand till they return to their rooms.

And before he goes to bed, he will check on Yugyeom one last time.

“He’s asleep,” Mark whispers, leaning against the door. Through the crack of the opening, Jaebum can see Yugyeom sprawled against his bed, crookedly shifted closer to Mark’s.

“Did his temperature go down?”

Mark shrugs. “Dunno,” he laughs. “I didn’t take it. You fuss too much. He’ll be fine.”

Jaebum huffs. He pushes his way past Mark and rearranges the blanket atop the feverish maknae. And just because he cannot resist, he bends to place a small kiss on his forehead.

Still watching from the door, Mark laughs even harder.

Just for fun, Jaebum corners him till he gets a kiss, too.

**Jaebum **makes a loose comment about it over dinner. They’re all together after a long break—Yugyeom could barely keep track of where his members had gone, and _he’s_ the one who always knows. Today, they’d stopped by a grill bar. Jaebum wouldn’t admit it, but he is thrilled to see his members again.

They talk about Jackson’s latest song and the merch he had been designing. They talk about Jinyoung’s latest drama and tease him about the kiss. Then they talk about Mark, then Bambam, then Youngjae, then Yugyeom. Then they talk about him.

“The old trainees want to meet,” Jaebum passingly says, refilling his shot. “Hyunwoo, Youngjae, Junhyeok ah…” he lists. “Jisoo, too.”

Jinyoung perks up at the last name. Yugyeom stops chewing for a second. Jisoo?

“Really?” Jinyoung presses, “how come I didn’t know?”

“You’re in the group chat,” Jaebum shrugs, words starting to slur at the edges. “You must have missed it. I told them you were filming.”

“Jisoo is coming back?” Jackson asks absently. Last they’d heard, he had returned to the States to study. He didn’t say if he was planning to return. He’d visited all of Yugyeom’s bad dreams, anyway. The same broad form; the same scalding words: _“Must we let Yugyeom tag along too?”_

From beside him, Bambam calls the waiter over to refill the jug. Youngjae asks for more _bulgogi_.

“Yeah,” Jaebum nods, “Next month.”

“Are you going?” Yugyeom softly asks. He ears begin to ring. He puts down his glass.

Jaebum looks up from the grill, surprised. The expression goes away as quickly as it came—and he focuses his attention back onto the pork belly sizzling nicely.

“I doubt we’d be able to make it,” he says.

“But—”

“It’s no big deal,” Jinyoung now adds. “We weren’t that close, really.”

Yugyeom knows that’s a lie. Jaebum had cried when Youngjae left the company. Jinyoung moped for days after Hyunwoo quit. They are all still here—but it is not the same. They used to be together. Something distant and forgotten claws at Yugyeom from inside and under.

“You should go,” Yugyeom says, though he avoids either of their gazes. He bites into the pork Jaebum had cut and put on his plate. “It’s been long.”

Maybe it’s his way of saying ‘it’s okay’. If it is not, then it is his way of saying ‘it has to be.’ It _has_ been long.

“We’ll see,” Jaebum just says, and Jinyoung gives him an unreadable glance from across. Then Mark yawns with a big stretch, accidentally knocking down his half-filled glass of beer. Youngjae yelps at the mess that drips onto his pants, Bambam screeches in laughter, and the conversation is drowned and forgotten under Jackson’s loud shouts for the waiter.

Jaebum and Jinyoung don’t go for the reunion the following month.

Maybe it is their way of saying ‘if it’s not okay yet, we’ll stick by you until it is.’

**Yugyeom** learns Jaebum, then relearns him when his old ways die. He saw Nora as a kitten, small, scrawny, cute. Then he sees Nora’s return—bigger, grumpier, (arguably still) cute. Yugyeom is taken aback when Jaebum brings her over to the dorms again. It’s a blunt slap to his face of the time that had passed. He hadn’t been keeping track. It’s easy when he lives in a vacuum of scripts and schedules.

He drops by the pharmacy to pick up antihistamines. Jaebum offers to pay—but Yugyeom declines. They return to the flat with newly bought catnip and feathered toys. Jinyoung is already snoozing on the couch, Nora curled up beside his leg. Jaebum calls her over. As Yugyeom remembers, she listens.

That afternoon, Yugyeom cannot help but watch them play. Jaebum takes some time to arrange her cat tower and litter box in his room. Yugyeom asks him to put them outside, but he doesn’t want to risk triggering his allergies. So in the room, she stays, mostly. Jaebum is all soft edges when he pets her, cooing whenever he lifts her. Though Yugyeom doesn’t think she is as adorable as before, Jaebum loves her all the same.

The cat doesn’t do much at all. She scratches at the tower and sometimes at his bed. On idle evenings, Mark grabs a toy to play with her. Yugyeom finds himself being shooed from the couch more and more often for Jaebum to clean up the strands of white hair she sheds into its creaks.

And it's these little things—it makes Yugyeom wonder about Jaebum differently. The Jaebum who will move out, get married, have his own family—Yugyeom will know him by heart. That Jaebum will belong to a new house, a spouse, his children. He will not be his anymore, but somehow, he will always be.

**The** move is inevitable. Their lease was running out—and it was only wise they had all started looking. Jackson joked that they should all buy a building and live together. One floor a person, and a studio, a pool, a room per cat, per dog, a memorial for his plant Bob, a gym, and—

It is either a joke or a retirement plan.

Yugyeom indulges in the idea because he is used to living with his members. He’d seen Jinyoung scrolling through flat listings on his phone. He’d heard Mark talking about it with his friends. It never crossed his mind Jaebum would be moving out, too. Sure, everyone had to move, but Jaebum was always there. One way or another. When the bookshelf empties, Yugyeom panics.

“Hyung,” Yugyeom knocks on Jaebum’s door one night. The corridor has cluttered with unsealed boxes of belongings. Two of them were filled with books. Yugyeom browses through them from time to time. He looks out for the pictured ones.

“Yugyeom ah?”

The door opens gently. Jaebum is only in his underwear, again. Yugyeom doesn’t bat an eye.

“Come in,” he says, toeing a box out of the way. A rustling sound comes from inside the cardboard. Soon, Nora pokes her head out.

“Punk,” Jaebum mutters. She disappears inside again. Yugyeom laughs.

For a while, he just lies on Jaebum’s bed, watching him pack. He stacks his pieces of vinyl and places them in a box. Then some mugs, photo frames, decorative lights from fans. Now and then, he pauses to clean off the dust or recount a memory. It is nice.

“When are you moving out?” Yugyeom asks.

“Next weekend,” Jaebum says. “I’ll help my parents settle in first.”

Yugyeom nods.

“It’s going to be even lonelier now,” he says. Jaebum doesn’t have to look up to know the exact expression Yugyeom is wearing—doe-eyed, half-pout. He has it memorised by now.

“Jinyoung is still here,” he reminds. Mark, too, but he hardly comes out of his room. Yugyeom rolls to his other side. Their pillows all smell the same—it is the detergent Jaebum likes. Someone else will have to do the laundry after he leaves. Maybe Jinyoung, if Yugyeom asks nicely. He has a feeling the laundry will just become a mess of missing socks and white-stained shirts, though. The remaining three of them do not have much discipline or responsibility when it came to chores.

“It’s not the same,” Yugyeom grumbles.

“It’s not going to be that different,” Jaebum rebuffs. “You barely noticed when Bambam moved.”

“But he’s just living across us.”

“I’m not too far. You can come over.”

“You’re not going to invite us. I know you won’t.”

Jaebum grunts—less annoyed, more defeated. He knows where Yugyeom is coming from. He is not the most generous person when it came to sharing spaces.

“I’ll invite you first,” he tries, hoping to make it better. “Once everything settles down. The furniture, the cats, you know.”

Yugyeom doesn’t know. He thinks he will be happy to pop over even if the house is concrete and unfurnished. He just wants to hang out in Jaebum’s kitchen while he cooks them seaweed soup.

“Okay,” he agrees anyway. He’s not sure he deserves being the first guest of his house, but he will not question a promise Jaebum makes.

Jaebum doesn’t chase him out of his room that night. They lie side by side among the boxes of memories collected over the years. Yugyeom exists in many of them. So with peace of mind, he sleeps.

**Over** time, things change. Jaebum stops being the all-perfect senior who Yugyeom tries to emulate, then he stops being the strict leader Yugyeom threads between steering clear of and trying his best to rile up. Jaebum becomes closer than a brother—he becomes a friend. Despite never indulging him the way Jackson does with gifts, or Jinyoung does with banter, or Mark does with cuddles, Jaebum makes him feel special all the same.

He has long outgrown the insecurity of finding his place. Yet, Jaebum always reminds him of what it is. Beyond a dancer, or vocalist, or _maknae, _Yugyeom is one of theirs. One of his own. Not just a junior whom he’d watched grow—Yugyeom is his love and scoldings and sacrifices.

A few times Jaebum visits Yugyeom’s house. He requests for Yugyeom to cook, and watches him as he lazily stirs up a childlike version of fried rice in his pyjamas. There is never enough salt, and way too many eggs and luncheon meat slices for the lack of veggies he throws into the pan. Jaebum will grouch—but eat it all up anyway.

And then he wonders how Yugyeom had grown so fast, so much. He will think about the kid who scrunched his nose at the mushrooms in his broth when he was 14, then the kid who cried noisily when he fractured his leg tricking when he was 16, then the kid who attended his graduation ceremony gleefully forgetting to collect his diploma when he was 18, then… the kid in front of him now—who is not so much a kid anymore, yet… not so different from the boy Jaebum had to protect from the bigger meaner ones.

These days Yugyeom brags he can do things by himself. Food, laundry, waking up on time. Jaebum doesn’t bring up how he had ordered take-outs so many times his entire fridge is covered with its coupons, or how he still falls asleep everywhere he wants to. He just smiles at him fondly from the side.

So Yugyeom will cut holes in his shirt, pop open more buttons, go for schedules alone. And Jaebum will ignore the urge to pull a jacket over him, and just wish for him to do well.

In his eyes, he always does.

**It** doesn’t come as big of a surprise to Jaebum as it does to Yugyeom when they hear the news. A unit just for them both. It makes Yugyeom clap his hands in excitement. They go for dinner that evening. Yugyeom plays demos of songs he’d written and recorded from months ago against the background of sizzling meat and a thunderstorm weathering well outside. Jaebum listens.

The unit’s name doesn’t sit right with him at first. He wants it to sound more sleek, more polished. He doesn’t like the number at the back of it. But the more he looks at it, printed on posters, albums, door signs, the more he likes it. A unit just for the two of them. There is no dramatic backstory; no bigger meaning. Just them, their music, their performance.

Yugyeom cares less about those details—he has always been more amenable. He spends his days and nights in the dance studios, choreographing alternatives after alternatives for their title track.

“Hyung, which looks better?” he asks one afternoon, showing him three variations of choreography for the chorus. The first is Jaebum’s favourite, the second best reflects Yugyeom's style, the third most public-friendly. Jaebum already knows which will be chosen in the end. Still, he asks Yugyeom to repeat the second option just to see him gazing at his reflection in the mirror with such intensity, brows furrowed, sweat dripping, because it makes for the best picture of him that Jaebum has come to love.

Just him, dance, an audience that will focus.

Yugyeom tilts his head at Jaebum after the music cuts. “Hyung?” he calls, out of breath. The back of his shirt had been ripped to reveal edges of the new tattoo he’d gotten. It is another jarring reminder of how different he is now.

“That’s my favourite,” Jaebum lies.

In the dim studio, Yugyeom’s face lights up.

**Take-out**. Again.

Jaebum is dissatisfied at the lack of home-cooked food he’d been getting ever since the recording rush for the new album had started. They’d been on studio lockdown since Tuesday—and it’s Sunday now. Every hour Jaebum had spent awake was either behind the soundboard or in the stuffy recording booth. The producers and writers they’re working with this time are some of his closest friends and heroes—but even _this _was pushing it.

All he wants now is his daily dose of ramyeon and kimchi. A taste of normalcy would be homely and good. Yugyeom, on the other hand, wants a hamburger. Foolish child, Jaebum thinks. The producer hyungs have made it clear this is not a conversation they want to be part of. Jaebum sighs in frustration. Everyone is getting increasingly useless around here.

Purposefully oblivious, Yugyeom keeps sending links to burger joints in the group chat. Jaebum frowns and glares at him past his phone. Yugyeom notices—but he ignores it.

“We ordered what _you _wanted yesterday,” Jaebum reasons. “Shouldn’t it be my turn to pick now?”

Yugyeom huffs. “But hyung,” he starts, and in the semi-nasal tone Jaebum can pick up on the whine. “Yesterday we had Jilhal bros. It’s not the same.”

To Jaebum it really is. Yugyeom’s palate is everything he is at odds with. Processed food; large corporations. Kids’ meals.

“We can have burgers tomorrow,” Jaebum firmly refutes. “My pick today. I just want the ramyeon from two blocks down.” Yugyeom bites the inside of his cheek in thought. “You love their Yangnyum chicken too,” he baits.

“But that’s boring,” Yugyeom says with a frown. He looks serious—too serious for the discussion they’re having, but Yugyeom is always like that. It’s funny, how he can tell the exact moment when Yugyeom gives in, even if he doesn’t say anything. And just like that, Jaebum wins. It’s always easy with Yugyeom, unlike tougher ones like Mark or Youngjae, which is why some days Jaebum has to remember to lose. Not today, though. He’s getting his ramyeon for sure.

The pings of Jaebum’s phone gradually stops. While Yugyeom’s pout grows, his will weakens. Then a final ping rings clear—and Jaebum sees the weblink to the menu and delivery contact of the exact mom-and-pop he was thinking about appearing in the chat.

It makes the rest of the occupants in the room heave a sigh in relief, and a victory anthem plays in Jaebum’s head.

**On** tour, Jaebum is back to seeing all of Yugyeom—his puffy eyes in the morning, his chocolate-fueled energy in the afternoon, his light snores from the back of the car by night. It’s strange, seeing these old habits take the form of an older Yugyeom. His cheeks still puff up whenever he smiles, though his jaw has sharpened out. He still throws his head back when he laughs, stomps and claps his hands, but the movements are just slightly more subdued, constrained. It fits him.

Jaebum likes having his own room—and Yugyeom must know that because he makes plans with everyone else in their entourage to be roommates except for him. And Jaebum is used to Yugyeom wanting company everywhere he goes, but he used to attribute it to boredom and a need for constant affection rather than a fear of being alone. Now that he knows, though, he invites Yugyeom to spend the evening in his room, even if he’d longed for the few hours of solitary respite.

Yugyeom smiles and says okay. But he doesn't show up that night. Or the night after. He always tells Jaebum to rest well when they part ways at the lift lobby. Some nights, he brings him the newest snacks he’d bought at the family mart—and a box of strawberry milk. But he leaves soon after—and Jaebum wishes Yugyeom didn’t know so much about him, because now he always puts him first.

“You can stay, you know,” he says on their last stop. It is Singapore.

“For the night?” Yugyeom asks. He looks up from his phone and wriggles his brows. Jaebum scoffs in disbelief as Yugyeom laughs loudly.

“There is only one bed,” Yugyeom complains after his giggles dissolve. Jaebum eyes the bed in question where Yugyeom is sprawled atop unapologetically. It’s not like Yugyeom ever had a problem sharing.

“So be it,” Jaebum shrugs, before he throws himself onto the mattress. It triggers a yelp from Yugyeom, who whines and shifts till his figure melts around Jaebum’s. It’s a squeeze—broad shoulders be damned today—but no one complains.

“Are you sure?” The question comes a bit later, when they’re more comfortable, Jaebum having come to appreciate the warmth of the other. Yugyeom’s voice doesn’t hold the same bit of insecurity that had made a home in him when he was younger anymore. A brokenness still exists, but it sounds different—it is more subtle, branded with shades of rejection. Jaebum hums and pulls the blanket tighter around them both.

“Always,” he promises.

**Korea** is cold.

Compared to the heat of Singapore, it felt like walking into a chiller. Yugyeom hadn’t missed it—he’d always preferred summer anyway. Huddling further under his puffy coat, he blinks tiredly. He pretty much slept throughout the entire flight—but he’s still _so_ tired.

A few steps ahead of him, Jaebum walks. There’s a book in his hand as per usual.

One of their managers sizes Yugyeom up and sighs like a concerned parent. Soon, there’s a cup of hot chocolate shoved into his hand. He thanks her with a sheepish smile.

Jaebum must have spotted something—because he suddenly turns around and grabs Yugyeom’s wrist. He points at a billboard. It has Jinyoung’s face on it to promote his new drama. Yugyeom cackles under his mask and stops to snap a photo. Behind him, another manager tuts and hurries him along. Jaebum keeps his hand on Yugyeom’s until he starts walking again.

“Finally home,” Jaebum sighs quietly. “I feel like I could sleep for the whole of next week.”

Yugyeom hums in agreement. They’d been flying back and forth non-stop juggling concerts and album preparations. They’re finally coming back as seven members again. It hasn’t been all that long since they’d last been together—but Yugyeom had missed it. Seven feels the best.

“Come on,” Jaebum urges when he is inside the car. Yugyeom had spaced out while waiting outside and waving to their fans. “Get in.”

He crawls into the backseat reserved for him. Mark comes in a few minutes later. He’d bought some food.

“Hyung,” Yugyeom whines. Mark and Jaebum hum. “I want some,” he says, reaching towards Mark’s packet of sweet potato fries. Mark fiddles with the bamboo skewer until he seizes a piece. Yugyeom’s hand remains open—but Mark feeds it to Jaebum instead.

The car fills with laughter. Yugyeom frowns and makes a sound of discontent. Jaebum is the first to recover and nudges Mark to give Yugyeom one for real.

“We need to record our parts tomorrow,” Jaebum reminds them a while later after the car has turned out of the airport. “Take care of your voices tonight.” Mark nods. Yugyeom is barely awake.

“Especially you, Yugyeom ah,” Jaebum turns around and pokes him awake. “Don’t drink any more soda.”

Yugyeom grunts. His only plan until tomorrow was to sleep, truthfully. He tilts his head to the other side, away from Jaebum, and lets his eyes droop shut again.

Jaebum huffs but reaches for Yugyeom’s bag. He throws in a couple of tea sachets he’d bought back in Japan, only his favourite kind, then returns it beside the sleeping boy.

Even if Yugyeom isn’t much of a tea person, he drinks them all that night.

“**You’re** my favourite leader,” Yugyeom confesses. It sounds out of the blue—a little sappy if he were being honest. They’re waiting in the car park after filming their first reality show for the comeback as seven. Manager Woojin was supposed to drive them two home—but he’s late. A car drives around the corner and passes by them. It is the fifth one, now. Yugyeom has been counting. He was supposed to say those four words after the third car, but he put it off.

Jaebum eyes him carefully, as if scanning for any ulterior intent. Yugyeom doesn’t break away from the eye contact. He’s not scared of anyone these days. The music in his air pods keeps playing.

“Really?” Jaebum asks. He wants to ask what this is about—but he figures Yugyeom will be embarrassed to go further. The tips of his ears are already turning pink, even if he stays indignantly put. It makes Jaebum want to smile.

“Yes,” Yugyeom confirms as if he had just shared a well-known fact. “Did you know that?”

Jaebum bites his lip. “Uh,” he pauses. “You never had any other leader before.” He's not sure if that was the right answer.

“Not true,” Yugyeom presses. “I was the leader of Jus2.”

Jaebum scrunches his nose. “All you did was to count to three every time we introduced ourselves.”

“I _was_ the leader," Yugyeom ignores him. There's a moment of quietness where everything is still. Before Jaebum can continue this pointless argument, Yugyeom says: “But I think I like you better.”

There is a sound of tyres screeching; the gantry pops back close at the entrance of the building. Jaebum feels his world tilt.

And that’s all it took, really, for Jaebum to get it. The nine years they’ve known each other—it’s an unexplainable bond, nothing Jaebum could ever put in words to describe. He knows Yugyeom had struggled with it too—from the longing looks from years before whenever the hyung line hung out, the sorry face he wore whenever he saw Jaebum’s back hurting from another choreography too strong, the glazed-over expression in his eyes when he is staring back at the fans who show up for them. He hardly has the words or tears to show—but he has been alongside Jaebum every step along the way, hurting from the same wounds, celebrating for the same wins.

It makes Jaebum’s heart ache. How did Yugyeom get so big?

Another car passes; its headlights shine on them. He hears Woojin scramble out of the car, a mix of apologies and complaints about the traffic and the weather. Jaebum ignores him.

“You’re my favourite, too,” he says softly. Plain, because that’s how Yugyeom will get it. He thinks back over the years he’d struggled to make Yugyeom know how much he loved him, then laughs at it now. It’s not so hard after all. Yugyeom’s lips thin, then he breaks into a big, knowing smile.

“Brats,” Woojin scolds. “Get in the car—what are you guys doing staring at each other like that? With the jam outside we might not even make it back before nine…”

They tune the rest out. Yugyeom grabs Jaebum’s hand and pulls him in.

The car door shuts. Jaebum sits with him in the backseat today.

They were okay after all. They will always be.

**FIN.**

**Author's Note:**

> hehehe pls let me know what u think!! i am full of love for yugbum nd for u. my twt is @beriyeri <3


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